Honour
by RosieMary
Summary: Fuelled by disgust at the wizarding world's lack of respect for Professor Severus Snape, Harry Potter visits his former potions master. Snape/Harry. AU after OOTP.


Disclaimer : I have no creative rights but I wanted to share the story inside my head.

Honour

1. personal integrity; allegiance to moral principles

2. fame or glory

3. great respect, regard, esteem, etc., or an outward sign of this

It was a great honour to be invited. The air in the Ministry of Magic ballroom glittered with colour, both as decoration and as the natural result of so many powerful wizards and witches in a state of elation. Gold-glistening statues were enchanted to serve drinks that had become legendary at the annual ceremony. Offered were fizzing potions, brewed in the champagne regions of France and served in tall glasses. There was also warm butterbeer, as golden in colour as the waiters themselves. Everyone had chosen their finest dress robes, wearing these along with celebratory smiles.

It was a great honour to be invited. Severus Snape was not.

The dank, dark dungeons were his home. Although Albus had on multiple occasions offered him a room in one of the castle's tall towers, he felt that his place was underneath the school. Rather than feeling part of wizarding society, he felt like part of its underlife. Far from the glamour and glory one would experience as a guest giving one of the commemorative speeches that would honour those who fought in the final battle that very evening.

Harry Potter, of course, was the very essence of honour. He was a beacon of integrity. Whether he was saving the world from Voldemort in a battle or dancing with pretty young things at a ball his morality stood strong. This innate sense of right and wrong was what prevented Harry from attending the Ministry that evening. Instead, a few Hogwarts students saw him heading down sets and sets of stairs towards the dungeons of his former school.

A steady knock at the door of his office startled Snape from his inner seething.

'Come in!' he barked, expecting some Slytherin to slither in, with some tale or other. He was surprised to behold a Gryffindor. Not just any Gryffindor. The boy who lived himself.

One blink and Snape had removed the look of surprise and resumed his usual mask of indifference.

'Potter'. He stated flatly, as though Harry were still at school and may have been merely sent with a message from Minerva.

'Hello, Sir'. Harry ventured, looking around the small workspace. It was exactly as he remembered it, strange creatures pickled in jars littered many surrounding shelves. In the centre there was a large oak desk where the potions master sat. The potions master had changed although his office had not. A few extra thin lines honoured his extra years. The only things which seemed to honour Severus Snape.

As Harry had not spoken further, Snape concluded that he had better.

'I did not expect to see you at Hogwarts at all, on an evening such as this one'.

It was true that Harry was a frequent visitor to the school, a supporter and inspiration to the young wizards and witches. Although they did not face the hardships that Mr Potter faced at their age, they still faced the usual teenage struggles.

Although a frequent visitor to the school, the younger man was certainly not a frequent visitor of the dungeons. The one time he had slipped away to see Snape on one of his earliest visits a decade ago, the welcome he had been met with was not exactly welcoming and he had not ventured back again since, or attempted anything beyond polite nods in the corridor.

'Well?' Snape asked. 'Why aren't you being honoured at the Ministry this evening?'

He could not eliminate every last trace of bitterness from the question. Harry, who had been pacing for the last minute or so could not keep quiet any longer.

'No, the question is, why aren't _you_?' he erupted, fury coming almost out of nowhere. Snape raised an eyebrow.

'I would think it obvious that a _death eater_ should not be first on the guest list to such an event.' He stated silkily, ignoring any pain that came with said statement.

'No', said Harry flatly, then again more passionately. '_No!_An _ex-_death eater or not, my strongest supporter... my _greatest ally_should not be relegated to his office on a night like tonight. The ten year anniversary of your bravery and you're...' Harry trailed off when he noticed the look of surprise, this time clearly visible and lingering, on his former teacher's face.

'Snape?'

Snape composed himself and cleared his throat before speaking.

'I never realised you cared'. His usual venom was curiously absent from the words, although he had meant to inject it. He took a breath before continuing. 'You've never -'

'I tried to thank you.' Harry interrupted. 'I came to see you, almost ten years ago to this day, remember?'

Snape recalled the boy's first post-battle visit to this office and the harsh words he had spoken in return. Silently, he poured himself a glass of strong scotch whisky, then poured another which he offered to Harry wordlessly. Harry accepted and they drank.

Two refills later and another word had not yet been uttered.

Finally, Snape probed further.

'You've never fought for my invitation to such affairs'.

Harry laughed 'How would you know that?' he asked incredulously. '_Every _year and most months in between it's a constant battle with the ministry.'

'Well... why are you here now?' Snape couldn't help but ask, hardly believing what he was hearing.

Harry took a moment before answering.

'...I've had enough.' he said simply. 'Every year, you form the biggest part of my speeches, every year I note your absence. These important words never come near the _Daily Prophet _yet every drunken clinch I find myself in is front page news - '

It was Snape's turn to laugh, although there was little humour present in his black eyes. 'Ah yes. Miss Spinnet. Miss Larsen. _Mister_ Bill Weasley...' Snape was beginning to slur his words slightly as he poured himself and Harry another.

'All drunken'. Harry said, somewhat forcefully. 'I'm surprised you paid those reports any interest' he couldn't help from adding.

Snape snorted and was certainly less coherent than earlier. 'Teaching groups of hormonal young whelps as I do, I could hardly miss the sex life of such a celebrity.'

'Drunken mistakes.' Harry repeated. 'Yet they are given more weight than my words about someone who _matters_.'

As Snape looked at the younger wizard, indeed weighing his words, the room began to blur. His glass, which had been in his left hand began to hang precariously. Snape was oblivious to this as his head dropped and his chin came to rest on his chest.

'Speaking of drunken...' Harry spoke the words to himself and removed the glass from Snape's relaxing hand before it fell, smashed and awoke the man now slumped in the chair.

He took the opportunity to really look at the lines on the other man's face, framed with black hair that was undeniably a little greasy. Harry had learned in later years that this was the price paid for a life surrounded by steaming cauldrons. Snape's eyes were closed and his thin lips were parted ever so slightly, his breathing heavy.

Harry couldn't resist letting his hand reach out and touch the soft dark hair, surprised that it didn't feel greasy, but silky. He was amazed at his temptation to let his hand continue and touch the pale, sleeping face of his ex-professor. He did not dare to go this far.

'Is this what four drinks do to you?' he wondered aloud. He jumped slightly when Snape slurred an answer without opening his eyes.

'Mr Potter, you have had four drinks. This last was number fourteen for me'.

Harry wondered how aware Snape had been of his wandering hands. Gradually, the older wizard's face began to relax once more and his breathing returned to its previously heavy state. Harry conjured a blanket and covered the potions master with it. A quietly muttered spell caused the desk's chair to slowly recline and provide a more comfortable night's sleep.

Harry slowly crept towards the door, and allowed himself one last glance at Severus Snape before exiting. As he carefully closed the door behind him, he vaguely wondered why he had any urge to stay.


End file.
